Wrath of the Daedra
by Scar the Martyr
Summary: In this story, a theoretical perspective is taken on what would happen if the Akatosh statue was destroyed and the Oblivion Gates were allowed to reopen without the Mythic Dawn. The Emperor, the Elder Council, the Blades, and the Champion of Cyrodiil are helpless to resolve the "Second Oblivion Crisis" as Mehrunes Dagon and the Daedra return to wreak havoc upon the land once again.
1. Chapter 1

_The year 433 was the year of Akatosh, the closing days of the Third Era….and the final hours of Emperor Uriel Septim's life and the beginning of the Oblivion Crisis. The Tamrielic Empire fell into chaos, darkness, and panic when the life of Uriel Septim was ended by assassins of the evil Daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn. Gates to Oblivion opened across Cyrodiil, and the Daedra themselves laid ruin to the land with uncontrolled aggression and domination. When a third and illegitimate son of the Emperor by the name of Martin Septim finally banished Mehrunes Dagon - the Prince of Destruction and patron deity of the Mythic Dawn - back into his realm of Oblivion, the Empire breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the Crisis had ended and that the world could finally be at peace. _

_But the Daedra are not so easily destroyed, and with the threats of the dragons and the civil war looming over Skyrim, the Daedra have decided to take advantage of the new chaos and invade Cyrodiil once again, this time with more brutality and bloody vengeance than ever before…._

**Cyrodiil, Imperial City, Elder Council Chambers**

**4E, 103, 13th of Mid Year, 4:30 A.M.**

_Why in the name of Talos are we having an Elder Council meeting **this early **in the morning?_

This question was asked over and over again in the minds of the Elder Council members as they slumped lazily in their chairs. High Chancellor Ocato had not yet arrived, and about half of the Council was already falling asleep. If Ocato didn't show up soon, they might as well be allowed to go home.

Veetrava, an adult red-faced Argonian male, quietly tapped his sharp lizard claws on the enormous round table in a rhythmic fashion in a futile attempt to keep his fellow Councilors awake. Despite the earliness of the hour, Veet felt totally awake. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wanted to know immediately.

_This can't be right, _he thought. _Surely nothing seriously bad has happened? Ocato wouldn't call us out this early unless it was important. There's enough trouble in Skyrim; what else can happen?_

The doors to the Council Chambers opened with loud creaks and groans, and instantly, the Elder Council abandoned all trace of sleepiness and stood up as High Chancellor Ocato entered the building.

"As you were, gentlemen," Ocato commanded as he sat down in the last available seat. "Forgive the strange hour, my friends," Ocato began, his Altmer eyes and voice shining and ringing with a unique fiery urgency. "But the reason I have called you is a matter of grave importance. You are all aware of the double threats in Skyrim, I am sure. However, we have our own problems: **_the Daedra have returned to Cyrodiil_**_."_

Murmurs and whispers spread throughout the room, and Ocato raised his hands to call for silence. "As unlikely as this seems, there is no denying it. The Mythic Dawn may have been disbanded, and Mehrunes Dagon has indeed been banished back to his world, but….something strange has happened. The Gates to Oblivion have opened again and the Daedra are returning. It's only a matter of time before Dagon himself follows."

"This doesn't seem possible!" a Dunmer called out from across the table, rising angrily from his seat. "We know full well that Martin Septim purposefully destroyed the Amulet of Kings, took upon himself the Avatar of Akatosh, and defeated Dagon to close the jaws of Oblivion! How can it be those jaws have reopened by themselves?"

"That is what we are here to figure out, Kaal, please sit down," Ocato said. "You know the protocol: in the absence of an Emperor, the Elder Council rules and lays down the Imperial laws. And our Emperor is indeed absent, for Titus Mede II – Divines bless him – has gone to Skyrim for…personal business."

A silence spread throughout the room, one not of fear, but of deep contemplation. No one desired to speak for almost an hour.

Finally, Veetrava broke the awkward silence. "If I may, High Chancellor, I suggest we carry out the exact with the same procedures as we did with the first Oblivion Crisis: assure the people of Cyrodiil that the Elder Council has the situation under control, and that the Imperial Legion will be dispatched to drive back the Daedra. Remember what happened to Kvatch? We don't want it happening again."

Ocato scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, you're right, Veet, good thinking! That would indeed be best!"

"But we still don't know exactly what's causing the reappearance of the Oblivion Gates!" Kaal shouted out. "We've tracked down and brought every Mythic Dawn member to justice, and still, Oblivion returns to haunt us, as if the Daedra want revenge! By Azura, doesn't anyone else want to know how this is happening?!"

"What about the Champion of Cyrodiil?" Veet suggested. "When was the last time we heard for him, do we know?"

"The Champion is living in Bruma, and pays visits to the Countess on occasion." Ocato explained. "But I suppose he could be called upon to help the Legion combat the new threat, just as he did with the first Oblivion Crisis. I can't guarantee he'll join us immediately; he took the death of Martin particularly hard. I'll have a message sent to him nonetheless. Now, putting this matter aside, are there any more matters of Imperial importance to discuss?"

The Council members glanced at one another, but none dared to bring up a new subject. Ocato clapped his hands. "Right, then, I think it best that we all return to sleep. Elder Council adjourned!"

* * *

**Bruma, Six Hours Later **

Sal-Gheel loved taking his lunch at the Jerall View Inn. There was no better place in town for the middle-class of the city. No one came to dine with him, but that was what he preferred. Sometimes it was better to dine alone than to be dined with friends who wouldn't stay around forever. Of course, Sal-Gheel had had friends, many great and irreplaceable friends. But they were all gone, died, murdered, or fallen away from his companionship.

As the adult Argonian climbed the stairs leading to the upper levels of the city, his mind wandered to one night, a night that changed his life and ended another.

_"I do what I must do. I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel. That task falls to others. Farewell. You've been a good friend, in the short time that I've known you. But now I must go. The Dragon waits."_

Those words still haunted Sal-Gheel to this day. But this was no time for trauma. Sal grasped the large decorative doors to the Jerall View Inn and swung them open.

The Inn was empty except for Hafid Hallowleg, the proprietor, and a few people who occupied an entire table in a corner. Sal did not bother trying to find out who they were. His mind was elsewhere.

Sal sat down at the counter where Hafid placed a cup in front him and began to fill it with the Argonian's favorite drink: Surilie Brothers Wine 399.

"The usual today, Sal?" asked the Nord Publican. "You don't look so good. Should I add some extra salt to your meat?"

"Yes, I think you should, Hafid," Sal said, a little distractedly. "Thank you." He looked curiously around the tavern, noting the emptiness of the place. "Not much people here today, I see. You losing business?"

"Eh, not really," Hafid replied with some trepidation as he stoked the fire below the cooking pot. "It's Mid Year, the month when people like to take vacations to the other provinces and such. Not that there's anything I can do about it. Especially with the Mid Year Celebration coming up and all that. Everybody has their freedom, and it's not like I have the authority to force people to-."

A deafening crash from outside split the still air, and Hafid nearly slipped with the fire poker. Sal calmly placed his cup on the counter and slid out of his seat. His clawed hand moved towards the steel longsword strapped to his belt. The group of people from the table in the corner also stood up, various weapons drawn in defense.

"Hafid, what was that?" Sal asked over his shoulder.

"It wasn't me, I swear!" Hafid cried, crouching fearfully behind the counter. "Ysmir as my witness, it wasn't me! Why don't you go find out?"

Sal rolled his eyes as he raised his sword. "Coward," he muttered under his breath. He carefully made his way towards the doors and, poised ready to strike, he opened them and stepped outside into the cold. The mysterious group of people followed. Turning back, Sal looked at them and discovered that this group was made up of two male Nords, two females (one a Nord, the other an Imperial), and a male Khajit. All of them were dressed in leather armor, and wielding maces, shortswords, or bows and arrows. One of the male Nords sheathed his mace and stepped forward.

"Gardon Thunder-Fist, of the Cyrodiil Blackbird Mercenaries, at your service," he said, his large hand extended in friendly greeting. "It's an honor to fight alongside the Champion of Cyrodiil."

"Please, Gardon, the honor is mine," the Argonian answered, shaking the Nord's hand and matching the air of friendliness exactly. "What do you think's going on here?"

Gardon shrugged as he re-drew his mace. "I don't know, but I can tell you that it's probably nothing good." He turned to the two females of the group. "Tara, Skjier, get to the Castle and help the City Guard secure Countess Narina Carvain. Hurry!" Without even a moment's hesitation, the women took off like lightning. When they were out of sight, Gardon turned to the other Mercenaries. "The rest of you are with me! Let's go!"

The Bruma North Gate was packed nearly to capacity with the townspeople storming it, trying to get a glimpse of whatever happened, both out of curiousity and out of fear for their own survival. The little of the City Guard who had not been assigned to the Countess were working to repel the crowd. Sal, Gardon, and the Mercenaries watched the unfolding chaos from the top of the staircase. The Argonian was shaking his head.

"This doesn't seem right. The sound came from outside the city, not from inside. Why are these people trying to get out when they don't know of the potential danger that lies behind that Gate?"

"Beats me," Gardon said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "But that doesn't mean we can't try to find out. Come on!" The group pushed their way through the crowd, and Gardon tapped one of the Guards on the shoulder. "Cyrodiil Blackbird Mercs. What's going on?"

"Oblivion Gate just opened in our borders, sir!" The Guard was breathless with controlling the crowd as he said it.

"Oblivion Gate?" Sal asked. "I thought the Gates were all closed when Martin Septim sealed them."

The Guard pulled himself away from the crowd and shook his head. "So did I, Champion, but I don't know how or why, but they're open again!" He pointed his sword at the sky, which was turning blood-red and dark orange. "See! Even the sky agrees with me!"

Sal-Gheel and the Mercenaries followed the Guard's gaze, and Sal's jaw dropped in horror.

_Dear Gods…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Leyawiin, 11:15 A.M. **

A golden sun shone over Leyawiin, quite unlike the darkened skies that covered Bruma hundreds of miles away. Business and typical life was working as usual. No restored Oblivion Gate had opened here yet.

Not yet, at least.

A young female Khajit sprinted through the city streets, clutching a pile of parchment manuscripts to her breast. "Please don't be late. Please don't be late," she repeated to herself.

The Oblivion Crisis may have ended, but the non-Imperial race prejudice was still extremely strong in Leyawiin. This Khajit, Razzara as she was named, was lucky to have landed a position in the court of Count Marius Caro himself.

"Please don't be late. Please don't be late."

Razzara burst through the doors of the Castle and rushed into the throne room. There, at a long rectangular vertical maple-wood table sat Count Caro, On-Staya Sundew the royal advisor, and the _entire royal court_. The only person missing was the Countess Alessia, Caro's wife.

The young Khajit gulped and nervously approached the table, adjusting her grip on the parchments she carried. The Count turned from talking to Sundew and smiled at her, a sign that she could lay down her burdens on the table. She did not hesitate to obey.

While Caro and Sundew were the only ones smiling, the rest of the court were doing anything but. As the Khajit looked up from organizing her manuscripts, she found only blank stone-cold stares from those who she had seen as friends.

_Tough crowd today_. _But the show must go on._

Razzara sat down in an empty chair and took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Whenever you're ready, Razzara," said the Count.

After about a minute of breathing exercises, Razzara stood up again and turned to face her crowd. She cleared her throat and began.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Khajits and Argonians of the Leyawiin Court, I have an important announcement to make. It is one of desperation and undeniable fact. I bid you to listen, as this is news that cannot be ignored." She ruffled her manuscripts and held up one for all to see.

"As of exactly 5:00 this morning, the Elder Council declared that the Oblivion Gates, long since closed by the last of the Septim bloodline, Martin Septim - aided by the divine power of Akatosh - have reopened, and with them, the Daedra of the Badlands, and Mehrunes Dagon himself. As to what caused this sudden return of the darkness, and why it has returned, the Council is still investigating, as is the Imperial Legion. So far, all we know is that they have returned for good. There is no denying it."

Caro's face went white, as did those of the Court. For a couple of minutes, nobody spoke. No Argonian or Khajit dared to wag its tail or tap its claws on the table. The Imperials restrained themselves from standing up and protesting in anger against such outlandish news.

Finally, Caro spoke in a barely audible whisper. "Razzara, are you sure about this?" he asked. His tone was mixed with fear and apprehension. "Are you sure you haven't been hitting the skooma without my knowledge?"

"I am fully aware of your confusion, Count Caro, and your suspicions of the skooma." Razzara explained. "This news is from the Elder Council itself, and you know full well that their word is law, and that their news is truth. Would they lie to the people of Cyrodiil? Would I lie to you? And even if I _had _been hitting the skooma without your knowledge, this news would still be just as real as the roasted deer that you eat for dinner every night."

On-Staya Sundew nodded from across the table. "She's right. The Daedra have indeed returned to Cyrodiil. Caro, I just received word less than an hour ago that Oblivion Gates have opened in Bruma, Chorrol, and Bravil."

All the human members of the court were shaking their heads in disbelief. Razzara felt a sudden urge to kick them all in the shins.

Caro raised a hand to call for order.

"If what Razzara says is true…if what the Elder Council says is true…those Oblivion Gates have indeed returned, then time is of the essence. We must do what we did during the first Crisis: secure and protect our borders and our city, and be prepared for anything the Daedra might do.

"They will show no mercy, no fear, neither pity nor remorse; only aggression, hatred, fury, and rage. Our City Guard must be prepared for this new vengeance of Mehrunes Dagon's Daedra, and we must have word ready to send to the Imperial Legion and Mazoga the Orc if necessary. Save some word for the other cities as well, those that do not yet have Oblivion Gates. Take care that we do not take Razzara's word lightly. Today begins the Wrath of the Daedra."

* * *

Meanwhile, Sal-Gheel and the Blackbird Mercenaries stood outside Bruma's Gates staring at the new Oblivion Gate. Their weapons were drawn, but their legs were stuck to the ground in astonishment.

"Dear Gods…" Sal said. "I thought I'd seen the end of these Gates after Martin Septim closed them personally, but it seems the Daedra want nothing more than revenge. The Mythic Dawn is dead and disbanded, so obviously something else is at work here."

"Beats me," Gardon said gruffly. "But we better do something about it quick before the Daedra break down the Gates!"

"Gardon!" Tara and Skjier came running around the corner towards them. "The Countess is secured! Should we help take down the Gate?"

Gardon looked at Sal for orders. "I may be the leader of this group, but you're the Champion. It's your call."

Sal looked at the Oblivion Gate, then back at Gardon, then back at the Gate again with a sigh. "I really don't see any other choice than to have us all go into the Gate together. I'm the one with the most experience with these unholy things than anybody else in Cyrodiil. But I will need some backup." He looked at Gardon again. "All of you are coming with me. We're going to take down that Oblivion Gate!"

"We'd better hurry!" said the Khajit, pointing at the Gate with his sword. "Here come some Daedra!"

A large horde of Clannfears, Scamps, Daedroths, and Dremora poured out of the Gate and charged towards them with weapons and claws raised in bloodlust. Sal raised his sword, and Gardon and his Mercenaries did the same.

"For the Emperor! For Cyrodiil!" they all cried, and charged into the melee.

An hour later, the Daedra were defeated; their blood and corpses watered and littered the ground. For the Mercenaries, a few battle scars and bruises were sustained, but all had survived. Sal-Gheel had taken a Dremora's dagger to his shoulder, but it had not gone in as deep as he suspected, so he was still able to carry on. After everyone had their wounds cleaned and bandaged up, Sal straightened his armor and beckoned to his new friends.

"Come on; let's get in there before reinforcements show up. Once we do, we need to find the Sigil Keep, remove the Sigil Stone from its peak, and collapse the Gate!"

The Khajit was scanning the area with a paw over his eyes. "We're all clear, Gardon. We should go with Sal while we can."

"Ja'zirr's right," Gardon said with a nod. "Everyone follow Sal-Gheel and let's go! Divines be with us all!"

Everyone picked up their weapons, and after cleaning them of Daedra blood, they made their way past the maze of corpses and crossed from Mundus into the world of Mehrunes Dagon.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Leyawiin, 11:20 A.M.**

"Razzara!" The voice of On-Staya Sundew stopped the young Khajit right in her tracks. She turned around to see the Argonian advisor walking towards her from the castle.

"First of all, I wanted to thank you for bringing the news from Oblivion to the attention of the court. That took a lot of courage, but you pulled it off. I'm proud of you."

Razzara said nothing, only nodding her head in thanks. Sundew continued.

"Secondly, I wanted to ask you about the other manuscripts you brought. You only showed the court one of them: the Elder Council's announcement. Are the other manuscripts filled with similar information, or are they completely unrelated entirely?"

Razzara looked down at the other papers in her paws, then back up at Sundew. "Well, to be honest, they're actually part of some personal work of mine. They just somehow got mixed up with my copies the Elder Council announcement, and I didn't notice it until I got out of my house."

Sundew nodded emphatically. "I understand, Razzara. No need to be embarrassed. Whatever your personal ambition may be, I wish you luck. And again, thank you for your courage in appearing before the court. I must get back to the Count. Good day, Razzara."

"Good day, Ms. Sundew."

Courtesy of the Count, Razzara lived in one of the richest houses in the city. It was named Da'vennerhall, a name that the Khajit had given herself taken from a distant grandfather on her mother's side named Da'venner who had fought in the War of Betony. Respecting and admiring Razzara's intellect and desire to honor her family, the city court always referred to the house by that name.

After placing her papers and the Elder Council announcement in her bedroom drawers, Razzara trotted around the corner to her sitting room and plopped down tiredly on a divan sitting against the wall. Her tail swung lazily beside her off the edge of the couch.

_"That took a lot of courage, but you pulled it off. I'm proud of you."_

"Very few people have been genuinely proud of me," Razzara said quietly to herself. "I'm a teenager, but I did something that is normally reserved for adults, and in the Leyawiin Court, too!"

Yes, there was every reason to be proud.

Razzara laid her head back against the cushions, closing her eyes in sleep with a smile of accomplishment on her yellow muzzle. In her mind's eye, she could see groups of numbers and diagrams, formulas and models, and various graphs and shapes.

Razzara was a mathematician, a child prodigy of extraordinary talent. Mathematics, uncovering its secrets and solving its mysteries…this was her ambition, an ambition very few people in Leyawiin knew about. The papers that had been mixed in with the Elder Council were actually part of a famous conjecture Razzara had been working for most of her teen years to solve. She had hoped to get more time to work on it after she had met with the court. Neither the Count nor On-Staya Sundew knew about her secret talent for manipulating numbers and variables. Only her parents really knew.

Her parents…people that Razzara never cared much to talk about. During the first Oblivion Crisis, when Razzara was about 8 years old, her parents enlisted in the Imperial Legion and were assigned to a platoon to help the future Champion of Cyrodiil destroy the Leyawiin Oblivion Gate.

**_They never returned._**

The sounds of the door's mail slot and a piece of parchment falling to the floor drew Razzara away from her dreams, and she opened her eyes and slowly stood up. On the floor was the week's edition of the Black Horse Courier, Cyrodiil's national newspaper. Razzara picked it up and brought it back to the sitting room to read. The first thing she noticed was that there was no news whatsoever on the second Oblivion Crisis.

_What in the name of Stendarr? Doesn't anyone else know about what's going on? Or is the Elder Council trying to keep things quiet while they try to resolve the problem on their own?_

* * *

**12:10 P.M.**

The transition from Mundus into Oblivion was not a pleasant one. Sal-Gheel was totally used to it, but the Cyrodiil Blackbird Mercenaries definitely weren't. Immediately upon arrival into Mehrunes' Dagon Badlands, Ja'zirr fell over backwards in dizziness, Skjier and Tara vomited into the lava seas, and Gardon and his fellow Nord, Fordij, dropped their weapons and fell forward on their faces in the dirt. Sal had to bite the blade of his sword to keep from laughing.

It took several minutes, but the Champion was able to get his new friends back into fighting shape. Together, they observed the landscape before them.

"Mara, Mother-Goddess and Divine of Love, preserve us," Gardon said breathlessly. "This is where all the Oblivion Gates led to?"

"Not exactly," Sal answered, passing Gardon his mace. "Every Oblivion Gate led to a different area of the Badlands. No two areas were ever the same. Now, in case you don't know how this works, Oblivion Gates are kept open by the presence of their legendary Sigil Stones, which is kept in the highest level of their Sigil Keeps in a room called the Sanguis. If we get through the ground level without any problems, we remove the Sigil Stone to render the Gate unstable and destroy its source of power. Once it closes, we'll be back in Mundus before you can say 'Mara'. Understood?"

"Understood!" cried the Mercenaries in unison.

"Great, let's go!" Sal exclaimed. "I'll take point. For the Emperor and for Cyrodiil!"

Today marked the first day that Sal-Gheel had ever been back in the Badlands in 8 years. They were on a long and large strip of land surrounded on all sides by red steaming-hot lava for what seemed like many miles. However, this didn't really bother Sal. What _did _bother him was the fact that there were no Daedra around to fight him and the Mercenaries. He furrowed his Argonian brow in wonder.

"Huh, that's strange. Where is everybody? All the Daedra, I mean."

"Yeah, that's very strange indeed," Gardon said. "By the way, how do we know which tower is the Sigil Keep?"

"The Sigil Keep will always some sort of yellow light emanating from its Sanguis. The other towers won't have that kind of light." Sal scanned the surrounding area with his eyes. "No sign of it from here; we need a better angle. Let's keep moving."

It was an hour of hard walking, due to the presence of uneven terrain, and random bouts of climbing over large rock formations. The hike was also occasionally disrupted by hostile living plants that would whack or paralyze anyone who came too close. Thankfully, everyone survived. Ja'zirr and Sal found a long bridge leading across the lava to an island, where three tall stone towers hundreds of feet tall stood imposingly over the men and beasts. The bridge itself was of crude Daedric design, but it was nonetheless effective and stable.

"Want Ja'zirr's guess, Sal? All the Daedra are in those towers, waiting to ambush us. We should proceed with caution."

"Good thinking, Ja'zirr," Sal agreed. "Everyone, the Daedra will kill us on sight, so if we don't keep our guards up, none of us will be returning to Cyrodiil. Come on, we're making good progress. If we can just make it over this bridge, we'll be able to find the Sigil Keep and get rid of this infernal Oblivion Gate."

Gardon and his Mercenaries could find no reason to argue. They followed Sal and Ja'zirr across the long bridge and onto the island, where the tower stood eerily above them.

"Better keep your voices down," Sal cautioned in a low whisper. "The Daedra may be inside the towers, like Ja'zirr said, but that doesn't mean they can't hear us out here. Let's go find that Sigil Keep."

The island was somewhat small, with only half a mile to spare behind the last tower before it fell into the lava. It wasn't that difficult for the group to find what they were looking for. It stood at an astonishing 1500 feet high, taller than the other minor towers only half its height. At its peak shone the trademark yellow light from within the Sigillum Sanguis.

"There!" Sal pointed at the massive tower standing at the back of the island. "That is the Sigil Keep. That is where we must retrieve the Sigil Stone to shut down this Oblivion Gate."

"That thing's huge!" Gardon exclaimed in awe. "How are we supposed to climb something that tall? There's no way the Daedra would just let us climb up to the Sanguis without a fight. We'd better keep our guards up if we all want to make it there alive, right?"

"There are passageways, some in plain sight, some hidden from view," said Sal. "Come on, we'd better get in there. The door must be around here somewhere."

They searched the perimeter of the tower, and found that the door was in the back rather than the front side where they had previously approached it. Etched on the doorway's hinges were Daedric symbols spelling out what seemed to be words.

"_'Oblivion Awaits'_," Sal translated for the Mercenaries. "I hope you all know that once we step inside this hellish structure, there's no turning back." He turned to look at them in the eyes. "Keep your guards up, or else some or all of us may not be coming back. Are you all ready for this?"

Gardon smiled with pride as he brandished his mace. "We're the Cyrodiil Blackbird Mercenaries, and you're Sal-Gheel, the Hero of Kvatch and the Champion of Cyrodiil! We were all born ready, just like you! We are with you to the death!"

Sal couldn't help but smile, though despite the pressing situation, he couldn't help but crack a joke. "Is that confidence or bravado?" He waited, but nobody spoke, and the smile fell away from his face. "Never mind, don't answer that. Open the doors! Oblivion Awaits!"

Sal and Ja'zirr grasped the door and pulled it open with all their might. A chilling frosty breeze nearly blow the scales and fur off of their bodies, but they, along with the other Mercenaries, summoned all their courage and stepped into the Sigil Keep.

"Great Arkay, it's filthy in here!" Gardon complained as he pulled his leather collar. "The sooner we get that Sigil Stone, the better. We didn't come all this way to be killed by some bad odors!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chorrol, 12:20 P.M.**

The Chorrol City Guard had seen many unspeakable horrors during the first Oblivion Crisis, and during its time as a part of natural law enforcement.

But never one quite like this.

The Daedric Siege Crawler, a massive mechanical monstrosity capable of leveling entire cities, was moving menacingly out of the Great Oblivion Gate (both once believed to have been closed and destroyed permanently by the Hero of Kvatch) towards the South Gate of Chorrol. Its cruel and sharp drill powerful enough to turn the Gate the sawdust was turning clockwise, spinning faster and faster with every slide.

One guard watched helplessly with its fellow soldiers from behind a steel barricade as the Siege Crawler approached the City's borders. Sweat ran down his brow, and confusion had clouded his mind.

_He destroyed it…the Hero of Kvatch destroyed it…and yet the Daedra either rebuilt it or made a new one. How is such a thing possible? And why start here, in Chorrol? Why not Kvatch, or the Imperial City? What is to be gained by using the Crawler here?_

But this was no time to ask questions that had no answers. Massive armies of Daedra were following the Siege Crawler and attacking everything in sight. On the opposite side of the city, the townspeople were secretly evacuating. The guard looked at his platoon, who looked at him and nodded without saying a word.

They realized what they had to do.

One by one, the guards drew their swords, raised their shields, and charged screaming at the top of their lungs into the melee.

* * *

Two Scamps, three Clannfears, and one Dremora were fair competition for Sal and the Blackbird Mercenaries. Six mortals against six Daedra gave everyone an enemy to fight.

"All righty!" Sal said courageously. "Let's show these guys who's boss! _Charge!_"

Tara and Ja'zirr offered long-range support while Fordij and Skjier supported Sal and Gardon with their shortswords. Sal took on the Dremora, since he was the most powerful of the group and therefore the greatest threat. Gardon engaged one of the Clannfears.

A steel arrow whizzed over Skjier's head, striking a Scamp directly in the heart. It fell backwards with a groan and a gurgle. The other two Scamps growled and roared in anger, and with their claws extending and their palms burning with magic, they broke away from their ranks and sprinted towards the archers, vengeance burning red in their eyes.

Ja'zirr didn't have time to think. Next thing he knew, he was laying against the back wall. Seconds later, Tara joined him, landing on his stomach, instantly knocking the air out of him. As the Scamps approached them with wicked grins on their faces, Tara got quickly to her feet, drawing a pair of steel daggers from her belt. "Hold on, Ja'zirr!" she cried aggressively. "I've got you covered!"

One of the Scamps raised its palms, and Tara felt her energy drain from her body, and she crumpled to the floor in a heap. Her daggers fell away from her hands, and rolled away in Ja'zirr's direction. The other Scamp pounced on the fallen Imperial, with its claws cutting into her armor.

**_"NO!" _**Ja'zirr cried out in desperation, but it was somewhat stifled because he could barely breathe. He could feel anger rising in him, and he pushed himself off the stone wall and rose to his full height. In his tail he held one of Tara's daggers; in his paws he held his bow and arrow. With a loud catlike shriek, he used his tail to run through one Scamp, and his paws to shoot the other in the head. Their corpses fell on top of the motionless Cyrodiilic woman, their blood staining her leather armor. Ja'zirr dropped his weapons, picked up the Scamp bodies, and tossed them aside. Fearing the worst, the Khajit put two claws to Tara's throat. There was no pulse. There was no denying it. Tara was dead.

But Ja'zirr could not grieve; he had no time. He rushed back into the fray, jumping forwards and landing right next to Gardon and his Clannfear.

Gardon kicked the Clannfear in the stomach, temporarily disarming it, and he turned as Ja'zirr joined the fray. The Khajit was holding a dagger in each hand, and a third in his tail. Gardon jumped out of the way as another Clannfear tried to pin him to the ground. Ja'zirr stabbed and nailed its tail to the ground with one dagger, and with the creature stuck, Gardon raised his mace to cut off its head.

As the Nord wiped the blood from his weapon, he tried to ask Ja'zirr about Tara. His inquiry was met with silence. Gardon asked a couple times more, but the Khajit would still not talk. Gardon simply shrugged and ran to help Fordij and Skjier. Ja'zirr unstuck his dagger from the dead Clannfear's tail and rushed to Sal-Gheel's aid.

Sal's sword was locked with the Dremora's Daedric blade, and each of them struggled to get an advantage over the other. Finally, the Dremora chanted a spell, sending Sal-Gheel flying through the air, landing near the front door. The Dremora punch Ja'zirr's chin, throwing him off balance and breaking his grip on his daggers; his enemy ignored the clatter of metal on the floor and simply stepped over the Khajit's disabled form to finish off the Argonian.

But he wasn't expecting Sal to stand up straight, dressed in his golden Champion of Cyrodiil armor. The Dremora now knew what he was, and who he was. There was no point in trying to fight him now. However, before he could turn and run, Sal picked him up by his nape and stabbed him in the back. With a painful and bloodcurdling cry, the Dremora took its last breath and fell limp on the Champion's blade.

Sal was breathing heavily as he rejoined his group. Gardon, Fordij, and Skjier were catching and killing any stragglers. Sal knelt down and patted Ja'zirr on the shoulder as he sat up on his tail, rubbing his chin with a painful grimace.

"Did….did we get everyone?" the Champion asked breathlessly. "Did we kill all of them?"

"Yes," Ja'zirr answered, as he sheathed his daggers. "Yes, we did get all of them. But….but Ja'zirr doesn't know about…..Gardon! Tara, it's Tara! She is dead! The Scamps killed her! _They killed her!_"

"What?! No!" Gardon felt hot tears spring to his eyes as grief for his fellow Mercenary filled his heart. "May the Divines bless Tara and guide her soul to Aetherius. We will give her a proper burial once we return to Cyrodiil. That's the first thing we'll do once we get back!"

"I know you'd all prefer to stay here and mourn your friend," Sal said, sheathing his sword. "But we still need to find the Sigillum Sanguis, because that's the only way any of us will be going home. I'm don't mean to sound insensitive, but we have work to do. Now we have a real reason to search for the Sanguis; if we don't close this Oblivion Gate, Tara will have died in vain and the Cyrodiil Blackbird Mercenaries would have come here for nothing. Let's make sure none of that happens! Let's go find that Sigil Stone, for Tara!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Bravil, 12:30 P.M.**

Five fighting, seventeen wounded, and countless more dead…the Bravil Guard had lost all hope as wave after wave after wave of Daedra shattered the barricades and proceeded to break down the City Gates. The whole city had been barricaded in an attempt to keep the enemy out, but some of them had snuck into the castle and murdered the royal family, along with the entire court and over two dozen civilians. Whatever citizens that remained were immediately evacuated and transferred to refugee camps. The five Guards that remained lay helplessly on the ground as two Daedroth broke ranks and began slashing at the Gates with their lethal hooked claws. On the other side of the city, two other Daedroth were doing the same thing.

The Guards slowly stood up and raised their weapons high above their heads. Despite the severity of their battle wounds, the spirit of battle was still strong inside them. With cries of "For Cyrodiil! For Emperor Mede! For Tamriel, Mundus, and Nirn!", the remainder of the Bravil Guard forced their way into the Daedric ranks, in a final brave (albeit somewhat reckless) attempt to defend their poor and squalid city one last time.

But their efforts were in vain: outnumbered fifty to five, the guards were quickly slaughtered by a group of Dremora, casting magic and wielding their deadly swords to force them to the ground. The Dremora struck them down with even greater wounds than they had obtained previously, mortal wounds which almost killed them on the spot.

Meanwhile, the Gates had finally been broken, and they all fell simultaneously from their shattered hinges. The armies and waves of countless Daedra poured into the city. Bravil was lost.

One Guard was still barely alive, having taken a dagger to his stomach and now bleeding to death. As one of the Dremora checked each soldier to confirm their deaths, he approached the dying one and knelt down next to him, grinning wickedly as he drew his last breaths. The creature of Oblivion grabbed the soldier by his helmet and raised his ears up to his mouth, whispering sadistically,

_"The time of Man and Mer is over, mortal; the time of the Daedra has come! Your damned tortured souls will serve the Daedra forever! Our Master will soon return, and Cyrodiil will burn! Mehrunes Dagon will come again, and your so-called Tamriel **will burn!** **Oblivion has returned! The Wrath of the Daedra…has now at last…begun!**"_

* * *

**Leyawiin, 12:35 P.M.**

No one saw it coming. Without warning, a massive Oblivion Gate opened on the banks of the Southern Nibenay Basin. The skies turned blood-red and struck fear into the hearts of the citizens of Leyawiin.

Count Marius Caro and On-Staya Sundew watched with hopeless expressions from the Castle as innumerable Daedric beasts burst effortlessly through the Gates and into the City. The City Guard had no time to attempt an evacuation; immediately the minions of Oblivion began rounding up everyone they could find and killing them in the streets.

"This is unbelievable!" the Count cried out angrily. "How did they past our walls and garrisons?!"

"They must have used a secret weapon of some sort," Sundew guessed. "It's not unlike a force of great supernatural power to use a tactic so overpowering."

Caro was about to reply when a loud crash from behind cut him off. He turned to see a half-dozen Scamps charge through a large Daedroth-shaped hole in the back wall and rush towards him. The Daedroth followed suit and raised an arm above Sundew. The Argonian and the Imperial drew their swords, but the enemy was too quick: the Daedroth scooped Sundew up in his large palm and threw her against the side wall, where she laid limp like a broken ragdoll. One of the Scamps grabbed Caro by the throat while the other five began tearing him apart. The Daedroth roared aggressively as it shot a fireball from its throat right in Sundew's direction. Caro wanted to cry out to her, but he could not breathe. The last thing he saw was the hatred in the Scamps' eyes and the Daedroth towering over Sundew's lacerated and burnt corpse.

* * *

**Chorrol, 12:40 P.M. **

The Chorrol City Guards' attempt to charge the Daedric Siege Engine had been a failure. Just as in Leyawiin, the Guards' last stand was hindered by unforeseen circumstances. But it wasn't by Dremora: it was by fully-grown Clannfears.

Feral, bipedal, dinosaur-like creatures, the Clannfears shattered their enemy's shields with head-on strikes, the sheer kinetic force causing them to stagger and fall over. With their claws and teeth, the beastlike monsters ripped and shredded their chainmail armor, drops of blood flying in every direction and staining the ground. Many of them tried to call for reinforcements, but their cries were cut short by the occasional Clannfear pressing their feet on their necks. Quickly, all life drained from their bodies. All breath fell short of their throats. All vision of the Gates of Chorrol falling from their hinges was obscured by the Daedra knocking their heads to the side to spare them the torture of watching their beloved city fall to its knees.

Three cities had fallen…only five remained.


End file.
